A Supernatural Hunger Games
by fandomgirl13
Summary: Dean Winchester, his brother Sam, and his father live together in district twelve, one of the poorest districts in Panem. Dean knows that his stakes are high for being drawn to participate in the annual Hunger Games, but when the time comes to pick two names to compete in the Hunger Games, something even Dean couldn't fathom happens. - his brother's name is drawn instead.


Dean slowly sat up and stretched, careful not to disturb the sleeping form next to him. Normally he would be gleeful to give his little brother, Sammy, a hard time about huddling so close, but today was different. Dean quietly slipped on soft leather boots and an old jacket that had shrunk too much for his father to wear, and placed a small round of goat cheese into its pocket; a present from Sam on reaping day. Before slipping out of the door Dean glanced back at his fathers sleeping form, peaceful and still, unlike his waking hours. A scrunched brown head peeked around the bed, eyes narrowing into slits as they focused on Dean. Dean returned the stare and sighed, not quite able to bring himself to regret the decision to keep the cat, Meg, as Sam liked to call her. She turned out to be worth her weight in gold; she was a good mouser and seemed to distract Sam from the hell that was their life. Sighing again, Dean headed out of the house and down the familiar dirt road. No hungry children and coal smudged miners were to be seen in the District today. Everyone chose to sleep in on a day like this, that is, if they could sleep at all. The shutters on the houses were closed tight, and not even the birds sung. Dean could feel the tension in the air. He stopped in front of a rusted fence, listening for a hum of electrical charge, just as an extra precaution, but there's none. The Capitol ordered it to be charged twenty-four hours a day to keep out the dangers of the forest, and to keep in the people of District 12, but no one followed that rule. It was rarely charged. Dean slipped under the fence and into the lush green woods. The change in Dean was almost immediate as he picked his way through the undergrowth towards a hollowed out log. His shoulders relaxed as all the stress he usually carried floated away, and the hard lines left his face. After grabbing his dads old recurve from within the log, Dean headed deeper into the woods, winding his way purposefully through the brush. As he trudged through the thicket, Dean warily glanced over his shoulder, always worried that he had been seen or heard sneaking into the woods. As usual, there was no one there. A flash of brown caught his eye, and his head whipped around to find a deer silently leaping through the trees. A smile grew on his face as he strung his bow, and aimed for the deer's head. "Hey, Winchester!" a loud voice yelled from behind him, spooking the deer. Dean's eyes followed the deer as it darted away, until it was hidden from view. "Son of a bitch," he murmured. He turned around to find a tan face staring back at him. "Dammit, Lisa!" She replied with a simple smile. "What were you going to do with that once you killed it, eh, Winchester?" she asked him. "I was going to sell it to a peacekeeper or something!" he said, obviously frustrated. "Not on a day like this," she shook her head. "Anyway, look what I shot!" She held up a loaf of bread with an arrow in it, and Dean couldn't help but chuckle. He took the bread from her, and let the smell slowly waft up to his nostrils. The heat radiating from the bread warmed his cold hands. "What'd you have to trade to get it?" Fresh bread like that was rare for them, and fairly pricey. Only for special occasions. "Just a squirrel," she shrugged. He reached his hand into his pocket, pulling out the cheese from Sam's goat. "Sammy gave us a little treat too," he said. Her expression brightened. "Thank you, Sam. We have a real feast this morning!" Dean led her through the woods and to a small meadow, where they sat down to eat their breakfast. "Oh, I almost forgot!" she exclaimed, turning to Dean. "Happy Hunger Games!" "And may the odds be ever in your favour," he said, finishing her sentence. They smiled at each other, though there was sadness behind their eyes. Lisa picked a berry off a nearby bush and popped it into her mouth. Dean took out a knife, and began to slice the bread. He handed her a piece, and watched as her teeth sunk into it's soft pastry. Her dark hair blew in the soft breeze, and her brown eyes studied his face carefully. For a moment there was nervous silence, as both think about the day ahead of them. "We could you it, you know," Lisa said suddenly. Dean turned to her with a questioning look. "Do what?" "Leave District 12. Live in the woods. You and I. We could, together," she explained. Dean shook his head. "We wouldn't make it five miles. They'd catch us." She shrugged her shoulders. "Maybe not." "We can't leave, anyway. You have Ben, and I have Sam," Dean pointed out. Lisa sighed. "We'll take them with us," she said. Dean laughed stiffly. "Could you imagine little Sammy in the woods?" Neither Sam, nor Lisa's brother, Ben, would do very well in the dark woods with all the dangers of bears and poisonous snakes. And they would never leave Ben and Sam behind. If it weren't for Dean and Lisa, their families would have starved already. Most of District 12 would have starved already if Dean and Lisa didn't hunt and bring them food. "Ok... maybe not," Lisa finally gave in. Dean's eyes skimmed over the forest surrounding them, chewing on bread and cheese. "They're like our children. We're always taking care of them, always providing the food." "I'm never having kids," Dean states bluntly. He already had a hard time taking care of his brother, and he couldn't imagine ever having to take care of more than that. "I would, if we didn't live here." "But we do live here," Dean argued stubbornly. The whole conversation felt a little odd to Dean. Leave? How could he? His responsibilities were there, in District 12. He could never leave poor Sammy to live alone with his father, an old, ill-tempered drunk. All Lisa's talk about kids and leaving confused Dean. Why would she bring that up? There had never been anything between him and Lisa except for a strong friendship. No romance, or not that Dean could tell. They got along great, and were great friends. He just never felt that certain… romantic connection. She was more like a sister to him than a lover, and he was perfectly fine with that. Besides, if she did actually want kids someday, she wouldn't have trouble finding a husband. She was pretty, and the boys in the district always talked about her. It sometimes made Dean jealous, but not for the reason most would think. She was a good friend, and a good hunting partner. He couldn't afford to lose her to some stupid boy. "So what do you want to do until tonight?" Lisa inquired, breaking the long stretch of silence. Dean shrugged. "I figured we'd go fishing, or hunt." She nods, and they set off through the woods after finishing their meal. The word 'tonight' rings through Dean's mind, reminding him of what is to come. A nervous shiver ran through him. After tonight two or more families will be closing their shutters and trying to overcome the sudden horror of losing their children, neighbors, or friends. But that's not what Becky, the district official for the Games, encourages them to do. She prefers that they celebrate after the reaping, for its "an honor" to be picked to participate in the games. And some do celebrate, but not for who was chosen. They celebrate because their child was not chosen, and was spared for the next year. Dean and Lisa made good time through the woods, unbothered by predators or other hunters. By late morning they had caught a dozen fish, gathered a bag of greens, and picked a gallon of strawberries. On their way home they stop by the Hob, a black market in an abandoned coal warehouse. Although most businesses were closed on Reaping day, the Hob is still bustling with people. Eight of the fish were traded for good bread and salt, and they traded Ellen, a woman who sold hot soup and illegal alcohol, half the greens for some beer. They might have been able to do a tad better elsewhere, but they make an effort to keep on good terms with Ellen, an old friend of the family. She's the only one they can count on to always trade with them. Once finished, they headed back into the main square. "See you later," Lisa said. "Wear something pretty," Dean said flatly, and they parted ways. Dean went to the mayor's back door to sell half the strawberries. The Mayor, Micheal, has a fondness for strawberries, and is one of the only people willing to pay the price for them. Garth, the Mayor's son, opens the door. He's in Dean's grade at school. Most would expect the mayor's son to be a snob, but he and Dean get along good enough. They find themselves hanging out together a lot at school: at lunch, during assemblies, and for sports activities. Garth does most of the talking, which is fine with Dean. He usually keeps to himself anyway. Instead of his usual school clothes he was wearing a crisp button up shirt and a thin black tie. Reaping clothes. "Nice tie," Dean compliments gruffly. Garth shot him a look, trying to decide whether Dean was actually complementing him or just being ironic. "If I do end up going to the capitol I don't want to look like a slob, do I?" Now it was Dean's turn to be confused. Did he mean it, or was he just messing with him? Dean guessed the second option. "Garth, you're not going to be going to the capitol," Dean said coolly. "How many can you have? Five entries? I had six when I was twelve years old." It wasn't his fault, of course. It was just the way the reaping system was. It was unfair, but there was nothing they could have done about it. Garth shrugged, and handed Dean the money for the berries. "Good luck, man." "You too." The door closed, and Dean began to head back towards the seam, lost in his thoughts. He wished he could change the unfair system of the reaping. The poorer a person is, the worse the reaping is for them. A person became eligible for the reaping the day they turn twelve. Their name got entered once. When they're thirteen, their name got entered twice and so on until they reached the age of eighteen, the final age for the reaping, when their name got put in seven times. That's true for all twelve of the Panem districts. But there's a catch. The poor population of Panem, like Dean and his family, could opt to put their name in three more times in exchange for tesserae. Tesserae provided a years supply of grain and oil for one person. So at the age twelve, Dean had his name in four times. Dean had had continued to apply for tesserae, so he could get food for Sam and his father. And they are accumulative. So, at the age 16, Dean had his name in twenty times. And Lisa, being 18 had her name in forty-two times. Since Garth is the governor's son he has no need to put his name in more than required so there is a very slim chance he would get picked. The poorer people of the Seam resent him for it, even though it's not his fault that he doesn't need more food like the poor, its just the way the reaping system is set up. Still, its hard for some not to be angry or jealous. Some days, while in the woods with Lisa, Dean listened as she rants about how tesserae is just another tool to cause the districts misery. A way to plant hate between the starving workers of the Seam and the more privileged members of the district. She was always going on about all the things the capitol does to manipulate them and strike fear through the districts. "It's to the capitol's advantage to have us divided among ourselves," she might have said if there were only Dean's ears to hear it. If it wasn't reaping day. Her arguments seemed completely pointless to Dean. What was the good of complaining about the capitol in the middle of the woods? He let her vent anyway, though. Better she ran her mouth in the woods than in the middle of the district for all to hear. At home, Dean found his father and brother ready to go. His dad was wearing a nice button up. It was one of the only shirts he owned that didn't smell like the cheap alcohol he was so fond of. Sam wore a plaid button up with a white shirt and tie under it; Dean's first reaping outfit. It was a bit big on him, but he made it work. A tub of warm water awaited Dean. He scrubbed off all the sweat and grime that had accumulated on his skin from the forest. After he was done, he headed to his room where he found one of his father's clean old shirts and un-ripped jeans. "You sure you want me to wear your shirt, dad?" Dean asked, trying to be thankful for his dad's offer and take it. For the longest time Dean had been so angry, he wouldn't allow his dad to do anything for him. He stayed his father's good little soldier, listening to orders, and that was it. He didn't want anything else to do with him. And this shirt was very special to his dad. Mary, Dean's mother, had made the shirt for their dad a few months before the accident. "Of course I'm sure," John said roughly. "Take the damn shirt and put it on." Dean nodded reluctantly, and began to dry his hair with a towel and dress. "You look nice," Sam said with a smile. Dean rolls his eyes and turns to the rusted mirror to fix his hair. He ran his fingers through his sandy locks once, then turned back to his brother. He patted him on the back. "I'd rather have the dirt on my face." He faked a smile, for Sam. These next few hours would be terrible and anxiety filled for him. His first reaping. He only had his name in once, and that's about as safe as anyone can be. Dean wouldn't let him take any tesserae either. But Sam wasn't as worried about himself as he is about Dean. Incase the unthinkable might happen. Dean protected his brother in every way that he can, but he's powerless against the reaping. Dean was strong, and would endure any pain imaginable, but if his brother was hurt, Dean didn't know what he would do. He couldn't stand seeing his little brother in pain. Anguish welled up inside of his chest just thinking about his little brother having to go through anything that could harm him. He almost let his fear show on his face, but held it in- for Sammy. He noticed Sam's shirt isn't tucked in, and forces himself to smile. "Come on, Sammy, tuck in your shirt," he said as calm as possible. "The name's Sam, not Sammy," Sam corrected, annoyed with his nickname, but he returned the grin, and began to shove his shirt into his pants. "Now," Dean started, trying to lighten the mood. "Let's eat." There was fish and greens already cooking on the stove, but that was for supper. They decided to save the strawberries and bakery bread for that evening, to make it special. Instead they drank milk from Sam's goat and ate stale bread, although no one had much appetite anyway. At one o'clock they headed down to the square: attendance was mandatory. Peacekeepers checked the houses and make sure everyone is at the reaping, and if they found someone still in their house, the person will be imprisoned. The usually lively square was quiet, and an air of grimness settled over the people. A camera crew stood on the outskirts, fiddling with their equipment to get ready for the broadcast. The inhabitants of district twelve silently began to fill the square. The twelve through eighteen-year-olds checked in, then gather in roped off areas organized by age- oldest in the front and youngest - like Sam - in the back. Members of their family lined up around the edges, holding on to each other's hands. The men and woman with no loved ones in harms way slipped through the nervous families, and began to bet with each other which unfortunate two kids' names will be called. Most of the betters went for the older children, who would most likely have their name in more times. The crowd got tighter as more arrive. The square was large, but not large enough to hold the population of District Twelve. Dean found himself standing next to a group of other 16 year olds. They all exchanged stiff nods and anxious glances, then turned their attention to the temporary stage in front of the justice building. It held three chairs, a podium, and a large glass ball that held all the eligible children's names from the district. Dean stared at the small paper slips that fill the ball with nervous anticipation. Twenty of them had Dean Winchester written on them in careful handwriting. And one of them had Sam Winchester. Dean scanned the crowd for his brother, but without luck, he turned his attention back to the stage. In one of the three chairs sat the mayor, Michael. Next to him was Becky, District Twelve's escort, fresh from the capitol in a spring green and yellow suit. A murmur went over the crowd as they notice the third chair is empty. As the town clock stroke two, the mayor stepped up to the podium and began to read. He told them of the history of Panem, and how it rose out of the ashes of a country once known as North America. He listed the fires, drought, disaster, storms and the brutal war that tore apart the nation. The result was Panem, a sparkling new capitol ringed by thirteen districts Then came the uprising known as the Dark Days. Twelve districts were defeated, the thirteenth obliterated. The Treaty of Treason gave them new laws and peace. That's when the Hunger Games were created: a reminder that the Dark Days must never be repeated. The rules of the Hunger Games were morbidly simple - as a result of the uprising two children, boy or girl, from each of the twelve districts must be given up to 'participate'. The children, called Tributes, were then imprisoned in an arena to fight to the death until one lone victor survives. The survivor won the game and got returned to his or her district. Taking kids from the districts, and forcing the people to watch as they kill each other was the capitol's way of reminding the districts that they were at total mercy to the them. To humiliate the districts even further, the capitol required they treat the Hunger Games like a festivity, or sporting event of sorts. The last tribute alive got to go back to a life at ease, and their district got showered with food and prizes. The other districts, however, got nothing more than another two children dead. "It's both a time for repentance and a time for thanks," the mayor intoned. Then he read the list of District Twelve's victors. In seventy-four years there had only been two, and only one still alive was Bobby Singer, the old alcoholic. As he heard his name called, he staggered onto the stage and plopped himself in the chair, obviously drunk. The crowd applauded, but he ignored it, mumbling something under his breath. He wore an old shirt and a simple baseball cap. Mayor Michael glanced at Bobby with disapproval, and quickly introduced Becky, as to get the attention away from the bearded man. "Happy Hunger Games! And may the odds be ever in your favour!" she happily breathed into the mic. She went on to describe 'what an honour it was to be there. Dean sighed, and his eyes drifted over the crowd, where he found Lisa staring at him with a slight smile. Dean tried hard to return the smile, but it's a failed attempt. She could see he is nervous - not for himself, but for Sam. His mind then drifted to Lisa's forty-two names in the ball, and his nerves spiked up even more. The odds aren't exactly in her favour, he thought ruefully. Lisa, thinking the same thing about Dean, turned her head away. It was time for the drawing. Becky strode up to the large glass ball, and her hands hovered inches over the names. "Well, here we go!" she chirped. The crowd drew a collective breath, and everything went completely silent as she dived in for a name. Walking back to the podium, she unfolded the paper, and leaned her lips close to the mic. Dean held his breath. A name rung out as clear as a bell throughout the square. And it was not his name. It was Sam Winchester 


End file.
